Quotes About Compassion

Because he had a mashed thumb like Ludie's?

Love of another individual opens a new relation between the personality and the world. — Carson McCullers, The Mortgaged Heart: Selected Writings (Houghton Mifflin, 1971)

Biff.. What he had said to Alice was true - he did like freaks. He had a special friendly feeling for sick people and cripples. Whenever somebody with a harelip or TB came into the place he would set him up to beer. Or if the customer were a hunchback or a bad cripple, then it would be whisky in the house. There was one fellow who had had his peter and his left leg blown off in a boiler explosion, and whenever he came to town there was a free pint waiting for him.

Their hearts began to swell with the pity that one feels for a fellow being who has lost both his way and his sense of purpose.

Even if a slave woman became pregnant by another man because of rape, there is evidence that some black men were unwilling to be understanding of the situation.

From the hills in the early dawn, Small, thin, mist-wreathed, she came upon him; Hair sodden to the brow, Eyes like agates, Lips apart, tongue flicking at words frozen in her head. Gliding to his feet, She caught his hand and said 'come help me, mister, or she'll be dead.

Did people always have to wait for pestilence or war or tragedy to be shocked into forgetting about themselves?

There's fire in you, Julie. I can see you out there in the street, carrying a banner for all the underprivileged people of the world.

I wonder why I still want to slap her. I must be a very mean and unforgiving person.

You are a sad, sad little man and you have my pity. — Buzz Lightyear

You could foster happiness and add to our joy - or sow hurt and discord. It's a choice you make each day, each hour, and with each thought.

Sharing the joys like Rose's birth the other day—that was good; but I am here for you in times of fear and sorrow, too. Come to me." He reached over and took her hands, pulling her closer. "Come to me, good or bad, right or wrong, day or night. Promise me.

I think maybe that is what love is. Seeing beyond the scars, to the person below the surface.

She didn't need to love him—Roan had seen too much of the cruelty in men to believe there was such a thing as love—but he wanted a woman who liked him. Now there was a good word. He wanted someone in his life to like him.

We have a long way to go to being the perfect couple, we certainly don't live the fairy tale marriage, he doesn't shower me with rose petals and fly me to Paris on weekends but when I get my hair cut, he notices. When I dress up to go out at night, he compliments me. When I cry, he wipes my tears. When I feel lonely, he makes me feel loved. And who needs Paris, when you can get a hug?

Don't mind all those people who say that you should be back to normal in a month or two. Grieving is all part of helping yourself anyway.

Then I realised that I was the god on this occasion. I had tried to help the bluebottle, but it wouldn't let me. And then I felt sorry for God because I understood his frustration. Sometimes when people offer a helping hand, it gets pushed away. People always want to help themselves first.

Deep down, underneath all his layers of stupidity, he's a really good man. He may act out far too many selfish thoughts, says all the wrong things at all the wrong times, but behind closed doors he's a best friend. I understand that he has idiotic tendencies and I can still love him for it. He may not be someone that you feel comfortable sitting next to at a dinner party but for me, he's someone that I feel comfortable sharing my life with.

We all make mistakes, some bigger than others, but none of us is perfect.

you are loved because I love you.

I can't be afraid of someone whose human side I see and know.

oh well, is it hurting anyone? Because if its not and you've been given it, I'd as soon stop calling it a thing and start referring to it as a gift.

People don't know that they do that to people when they do the things they shouldn't. Hurtful things are roots,they spread ,branch out, creep under the surface touching other parts of the lives of those they hurt. It's never one mistake, it's never one moment, it becomes a series of moments, each moment growing roots and spurting in different directions. And over time, they become muddled like an old twisted tree, strangling itself and tying itself up in knots.

Sometomes that's all people ever really need. Just to know.